Winter

Written on the first snow fall of November, 2018

Snow is nice on a calm dark winter night walk.
Insulated quiet and boots crunching. 
A few flakes falling slow and gentle. 

Snow is nice when it comes down so heavy it cancels school and your young kids jump for joy and play all day outside until they can't feel their coral cheeks. You have cocoa and grilled cheese waiting. 

Snow is nice when the sun shines and the sky is crisp blue. The trees don't have shade to cast - the leaves left them bare and the white snow capping every surface glimmers in the sun and makes everything brighter. 

Snow is always nice. 
Shoveling gets your blood pumping and the seven layers you had on, slowly get thrown to the porch one by one because you're soaking in sweat. 

Snow. It's nice. 
It's winter that's not. 
The long dark nights that cut your day in half, leaving you unmotivated in the evening to do anything but stay inside where it's warm and eat. Eat and lay around and the light you seek is the screen before you. 

It's winter. 
Winter is not nice. 
It's grey and brown. 
Your eyes crave green so badly it aches. 
Your skin forgets what the warm summer breeze feels like. 
You realize you haven't heard a bird sing. 
Your feet haven't touched the earth,
toes haven't sunk in the sand or felt the water lapping. 

Clothes, clothing, zippers, scratchy woolens, long wraps, coverings, heavy boots and tight extra undergarments. Contain and constrict. The cold cramps your posture forward to retain heat. You go outside and your muscles shiver and tense. Constantly on guard fighting - fighting cold. 

Fighting Winter.  

It's the darkness that accompanies the cold. 
It drives people inside their homes. You don't see neighbors for months on end. You're all probably doing the same things inside, alone. Eating. Watching shows that have sunlight in them to escape where you live and how lonely you are. 

You contemplate doing something crazy because winter madness sets in. You plot a get a way, but really you want to get away for good. Forget the exchange of seasonal tubs of clothing and closet rearranging. Twenty different kinds of coats for different temperatures, not to mention footwear. Leave it all behind. It's too much. 

Winter makes your mind simple. It's isolating. 

Winter. 
Is it for strong people?
Does it make you strong? 
Why do we stay? 
We don't have to. 
Brief interactions with people outside your home. 
It's the same winter themed comments:
Golly it's cold!
Haven't we had enough of this? 
When's it going to end? 
People drive like idiots in the snow. 
How long is this winter going to be? 
The weather man didn't predict this. 

Winter has its nostalgia going for it. 

Winter is for kids where you're comfortable and cozy and cared for. 
Winter for kids means sled rides, sleepovers, pancakes and snowball fights. 
Winter for adults is getting up in the dark to make coffee and shivering at the gas station to fill up. 

How can winter be magic for adults? 
For adults who swerve away from Mistletoe and 
don’t resonate with the lyrics of young loves missing each other on the holidays. 

Who brings magic to adults who have been creating it for years for their children? 
We create the ornaments together, we read and reread the Christmas books, we wrap the gifts secretly. We create the setting. It is full. It is full of magic and excitement and beauty and wonder. 

The thing that's there that remains is the stillness and light. 
The bundle of wet boots and gloves and snow pants heaped on the floor. 
The heat turns on. 

The dark. 
It's still. 
It's a waiting period. 

So you use the light available 
and all you want are candles and little lights on strings. 
It's gentle. 
It's soft and it's respectful of this season of dark. 
You open up in reverence and begin to listen to what she says.

You realize Mother Nature gave you the dark for real reasons. 

You're by yourself in the dark for a reason. 
It's an internal time. 

Who says winter should be full of shiny joy and love and surprises, anyway? Target? 

I'm listening to me. 
To her.
I'm putting my hands on the earth. 
The earth is real. And wise. 
And all she wants from me is to heed the dark. 

Feel the dark. Maybe it's a gift. My eyes will adjust. 
Don't judge. Don't compare. 
It's where I'm at. 
This month. This year. This chapter. This season. In my life. 

No one has summers every season anyway - no matter how warm the sun. 

Don't look outside yourself for warmth. 
It's right here. 
Be still. In the dark. 
Of winter. 
Feel. 
Your. 
Own. 

Warmth. 


Beauty is Everywhere. 

​- Holly